


Then The Cycle Repeats.

by orphan_account



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 15 year old peter, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Fainting, He gets better, Hurt/Comfort, Malnutrition, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentally unstable character, Overworked, Peter scares me, Peter's sick, Scars, Stressed Peter, but only after getting worse, canon-divergence, chemical imbalance, dark!Peter, honestly peter is so stressed, peter is sad, peter is too stressed, possibly personality disorder, underpaid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter Benjamin Parker is heading down south in terms of his social life. Sure, Ned and MJ know what he does, but is that really enough? He doesn't have time for movies, or star wars toys, or over-night studding. No, all he has time for is school and something less like stopping crime and more like being thrown through brick walls and into dumpsters until he has time to fight back.The radiation from his spider-bite is also causing Peter some mental problems, but those can be put on the back burner for now.It's all too much ,and one day Peter's gonna crack.





	1. Oh shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Ho-Ho!!! Hiya and welcome!!! Hope your enjoying your day!!  
> If there are ever any warnings for the upcoming literature works called chapters, you will see them here before each beginning.  
> (Warning: Mentions of light blood, violence, scaring.)

Personally, Peter believed what he was doing was good. And it was! He saved people, stopped crimes, kept everyone he could safe. Aunt May was struggling to pay rent, which in itself wasn't unusual, but that also meant that what little insurance covered them wouldn't even help with the injuries Peter regularly obtained. So he kept that part to himself; _No, Aunt May, I'm feeling just fine_ , or _No, Aunt May; my legs are just a little sore_ , and _It's just a little bruise, I'll be okay_. He was not feeling _just_ fine, it wasn't _just_ a little sore, and it was not _just_ a little bruise. He felt like someone had run him through a vicious, rusty meat grinder almost every day of his life now. His teeth were chipped, his joints creaked and groaned on a good day; his back and shoulders were always tense and stiff. He felt horrible physically. But mentally? Emotionally? He thought he was holding up. He was saving people, keeping them safe and assuring them when they needed it that _don't worry, I'll take care of it._

At this point the police didn't even intrude; they knew his routes by now (they had to) and they knew his routine; an anonymous call of "8th and 41st street; hanging on the lamp post." At first, they tried to question him, tried to catch up to him, back when he would wait for them to show up. Some would laugh at the dude in a red and blue onesie swinging around at night, and others would just take it in stride because "We've seen weirder shit than some guy swinging around on webs and sticking to the walls." A few of them had even come to like Spider-man; offering him meals and snacks on the later nights when he sounded exhausted and beat. There have been incidents where a cop has even arrived early, due to noise complaints or an earlier call from a victim; ones that held fear and respect for the 15-year-old. They've seen how he fights; bending and contorting himself during his moments of panic and fighting. One, (his name's Martin,) has seen Spider-man take a knife (And a big one too, if Peters being honest) in his back to keep a mother and her daughter safe from a kidnapper, rapist, and murderer; the one who Martin had been tracking down for two months now. Spider-man hadn't even thought about it; had pulled the kid and her mother close as the knife swung down and embedded itself in his back.

All in all, the Spider-man was well liked by some, hated by few, respected (and feared) by many.

But, there are some cases where even Peter couldn't get out unscathed. Many, in fact; more often than not he half climbs half falls in through his window covered in bruises, gashes and, in a few incidents, broken bones. Unlike many other superheroes who are both adults and very publicly supported images, he can't just go to a hospital and get them set, nor can he call upon personal doctors to help. No, he sits in his bathtub with a belt between his teeth and bones setting beneath his fingers. Thank the gods for his healing factor; it means he only has to wait for a day or two for broken bones to heal, and even less than that for bruises to disappear and his skin to stitch itself back together. He does _not_ thank the gods for the fact that, even though he heals fast, his skin does not, in fact, magically erase any sign of the fights. His skin is mottled with divots and risen scars; his body looks like a topographical map of Utah.

He was slowly tearing himself apart like this, and he knew it. Too few nights of sleep, too little time to sit down and eat a meal. His complexion was slowly toning down from the slight tan he used to hold and meandering its way to an unhealthy pale. His cheekbones were sharp, his baby fat was gone now. He had stopped growing two years ago; therefore, probably for good. He can't hold a normal job, which just stresses Aunt May out more, so he decided to start using Uncle Ben's old camera for something more productive; has been selling some really cool photo's on shutter-stock for some extra cash recently. It's been working wonders, really; he even managed to take Aunt May out to a really good steak house a few days ago.

But back to the business at hand; or, the lack of, really. The night air is cold, sure; it's also silent, and the fact that literally nothing is happening makes the chill in his bones even more unbearable. Normally, on such a cold night he'd be swinging from building to building, body heating itself up quickly in the dead of night. But now? Now there's nothing to do but sit at the edge of some office building and wait. He's done his usual rounds twice now, and the only thing he's managed to do is feed a gaggle of homeless cats three chili dogs and a batch of stale fries. They've seemed to accept him as their ruler though, so now he's got a group of cats following him from building to building silently.

"I guess one good thing came out of tonight after all."

He placed his feet at the edge of the building and launched off into the night sky, air tickling his stiff muscles as he swung and weaved himself in-between buildings and stores; making his way through midtown for the hell of it. It's not like he lived too far from here anyway, and there's always something to do here while dressed as a civilian. He just needed to get to his stash of clothes and he's all good.

The water tower on top one of the apartment buildings was the best place to hide things, especially when it looked like nobody's been up there in actual years; he yanked the backpack off from under the tank and stripped to his boxers, pulling the flannel and jeans on before stuffing his spidey-suit in the backpack and climbing down the fire escape quickly. His worn sneakers hit the pavement and he started his walk, gracefully avoiding bumping shoulders with the drunkards and tourists and businessmen coming back from a secret night in a hotel room. Peter made his way through the streets and passed the Start Tower; obviously, the greatest invention in the world. The place practically powers itself with no effort or damage to the surrounding environment. He stopped at the steps, and even at the peak of the night crawlers, of demons, sinners and those who stop them, ordinary people still have jobs to do.

People were rushing up and down the steps, women in pencil skirts and men in well-fitting suits rushing in and out, mingling through the streets and disappearing entirely. The lights from buildings made the streets well lit, bright as it would be mid-day. As a matter of fact, it was closing into five AM, and Aunt May went up to wake Peter at six to kiss him goodbye before she went to work. Peter started off towards his and May's apartment, the sun just starting to make its way over the city. The sight of the sun rising up behind Stark Tower really was amazing; when Aunt May's working a night shift, Peter'll just have to stop by, maybe take a climb up top to see what it's like up there.

 

He got home not twenty minutes later, flopping down on the bed and letting his shoes slip off his feet, the sweat and grime of last night making him feel slimy and unclean. Exhaustion pulled on his limbs and eyes and not even a minute later he was falling asleep, curls sticking to his forehead through his sweat. aunt May walked in half an hour later, kissing his cheek and reminding him _he_   _has school in less than two hours, so he'd better get up before he misses the days' field trip._

Peters' eyes flew open immediately and Aunt May laughed as he bounced around the room, gathering today's clothes in his arms.

"What do you mean the field trips today? I thought the tour was scheduled on Friday?" His voice was panicky as he jumped from one corner of the room to the other in a flash.

"Today _is_ Friday Peter."

"Ah, shit-" He tripped and fell flat on his face when trying to pull his dirty jeans off of him, smiling as Aunt May laughed her goodbyes one more time before leaving his room, their front door closing a few moments later. Peter placed his clean clothes on the bed, throwing his school backpack on the floor next to his chair before running into his shower, scrubbing the smell of Manhattan off of him as violently as he could.

Freshly washed, he pulled his clothes on quickly, stuffing the spidey-costume into his backpack and zipping it closed violently, making his way down the stairs (which means flipping over the railing and just landing at the bottom.)

He reached into the freezer and pulled out the pack of Eggo waffles, stuffing the frozen thing in-between his chipped teeth before flying out the front door, closing and locking it before making his way to the elevator, chewing on the cold deliciousness. No one else in the building was up right now, considering everyone else was an elderly person who had no job to attend to. He stepped out of the doors and made his way down the street, chewing on the frost-bitten waffle as he went. The sun was now out, and since there was only another week of school, and finals are over the school faculty decided to give the teens a break. The school was only another mile off from where he lived, so he took his time getting there. The entire Sophomore class were to wait in the gym until the principal gave his speech about how _you are to represent this school properly; as in, no insults, fights, arguments or time wasting_ before finally letting us go.

Peter entered the doors to the gym and automatically spotted Ned and MJ in the corner, mumbling to each-other; one over the spine of a book, the other over his laptop screen.

"Hey, guys." Peter sat down next to Ned, who turned and showed him the paused video on his screen.

"Did you know you went viral this week?"

Ned played the video, which looked like it was shot from the corner of some alleyway, just barely keeping Spider-man in the frame. "Oh yeah, I remember this; this was just a few weeks ago. Wonder why it took the dude so long to upload it."

The video was showing Spider-man taking down a group of dudes trying to rob a bank with explosives. Thankfully, Spider-man had actually created a web fluid that had been strong enough to contain something that violent; although just barely. He had three of the guys tied up, but the fourth one had managed to shoot Spider-man in the shoulder before Spider-man had punched him cold.

Peters' shoulder was still a bit achy, the muscles sore and tender to the touch; he remembered having to dig the bullet out and shuddered. 

"We'll be leaving soon, so make sure you have everything you'll be needing for the day, due to the tour lasting near four hours." Peter felt his heart rate spike slightly, the thought of being near the actual Stark Lab making his knee bounce to exert the extra energy he suddenly felt; theoretically speaking, he should have no more problems with his ADHD, since the venom of that spider had completely destroyed the need for both his glasses and inhaler. That didn't seem to be the case with this, though. He did manage to channel most of his restless energy into his nightly activities, but that didn't always work, especially in _cases of extreme emotional stimulation and distress_ ; AKA- his over-flowing excitement to be able to roam Stark Tower's halls. 

"Dude are you as excited as I am? Actually being able to walk through the Stark Towers halls, checking all that cool stuff out's gonna be a blast." Ned continued to speak on the bus, where the Sophomore were piled into. Peter, Ned and MJ all took their seats in the back of the bus, far away from everyone else. The ride was only gonna be ten minutes, but that was ten minutes longer Peter had to wait. He planned on sneaking away from the group, but to do that he'd need a distraction; he was sure he would only be a few minutes, tops.

The ride felt like both a second and an hour, but soon enough they were pulling up to the building and being led out single file, breaking off into groups of three; so obviously Peter, MJ, and Ned. 

"Hey, Ned." Peter whispered into Ned's ear as they were led through a corridor, glass doors and walls keeping them away from the multiple technicians working away in their labs, the tour guide prattling on about the basics of what the techs were working on.

"Yeah?" Ned whispered back, just as quietly. Thank god they were always forgotten in the back, 'cause if not, this might not work. 

"I need you to cover for me, alright? If we get close to the end of the tour, and I'm not back five minutes before it's up text me  _Last Jedi."_ And with that, Peter was slinking off quietly, ducking into the bathroom they had passed just two corridors ago. He jumped into a stall and threw his Spider-man jacket on, the mask and gloves coming on next. He kept his jeans on, and he only owned one pair of shoes for now, so this'll have to do.

Spider-man jumped up to the vent in the ceiling and crawled in, leaving his backpack right next to the entrance to it so he could make a quick change and make it back to the exit before he was caught. He made his silent way through the vents, his make-shift hacker weaving it's way through the codes and fire-walls of Stark's security program easily (or as easily as Peter could hope for) he just prays no one noticed the extra lines of code disabling the sensors in the vents and on the 27th floor. He had to silence his cry of excitement when his scanner came back clean, the camera's and sensors in the vents completely disabled, the 27th floor, which he was currently in, was also shut down.

Peter made sure to imitate a code crashing, just in case someone noticed. (Who was Spidey kidding; of course they'd notice.) Spider-man slowly and silently slid out of the vent, landing on a low crouch as he looked around. 

Floor 27 was the gamma research lab, and was currently under construction when Dr. Banner had an incident with a few chemicals that he did not mean to allow to mix and then, well; Boom. Most of the lab was untouched, but it seems like they wanted to be cautious of any type of chemical spill and had assigned certain robots to complete the construction. The litter of welder bots ignored him as he passed, so Spider-man assumed they just weren't advanced enough to alert anyone of a threat. Spider-man quickly ran over to the large machines covering the work bench and started the B.G.P,(Blood Gamma Processor) the machine Dr. Banner created to do weekly tests on his gamma blood levels. Spidey pricked his finger with his needle and placed it on the pad, watching his results flit across the screen too fast for even his eyes before the processor froze, spitting out a stream of papers before releasing a loud alarm through-out the building. 

Spider-man's pulse shot as he spun for the air vent, ripping his papers from the machine and shooting up through the vents. Just as he tucked his feet up beneath him, he heard someone burst through the door. Multiple someones actually, but Spidey didn't stay to see who it was (although, if it wasn't an immediate threat to the rest of his career and the trust Aunt May held in him, he would have.) He listened as someone let out a shout of "The vents!" and someone trampling up into the entrance, but Spidey had already fell down one of the shafts that lead to the fifth floor, where he last was. He let his hands and feet slide down the smooth surface of the metal for a moment until he felt it safe to slow his descend, his skin catching slightly as he slowed.

He practically ran down the vent, his tiny frame allowing the quick movements as he grabbed his back-pack and fell out of the vent, webbing it shut behind him and ripping his mask off, allowing himself to gasp violently for a moment, until he processed that the alarm was still going off, and both MJ and Ned were blowing his phone up with short, choppy, worry-filled messages like

_We're on floor 4_

_peter where r u_

_was that ur fault_

_we just saw the avengers run through what did you do_

 

**on floor five now dont worry ill be there give me a cover**

Peter ran through the halls and corridors, the violent ear-splitting siren going off above him just pushed him farther, until he managed to see the back of Ned's head through the crowd. Ned looked worried, running his hand through his hair as he looked behind him every few seconds, until he double tracked upon noticing Peter's tiny frame. 

"Dude, what did you do!?" Ned had greeted him by grabbing his shoulders and turning his upper body to the side and back, before making eye-contact with Peter for a solid second, and then spun his head to look at MJ, who seemed un-bothered by everything. 

"Don't worry Ned," she started, "If the avengers knew it was Peters fault they would have detained him the moment they saw him on camera. Peter," here she addressed him directly, "Did you at least manage to get what you needed?"

Peter nodded, nerves still frayed as the Sophomore group was escorted out by a handful of security guards, back towards the bus.

"Yeah," Peter mumbled once they managed to calm down and were now seated on the bus. "Yeah, I got what I needed. Now I have to figure out what the hell all that was about."

"What, the alarm?" Ned looked to Peter "You don't know why it went off?" 

Peter shook his head, then leaned it against the window to his left. "No clue."

 

 

The school decided to let them all out early, and Peter waved an enthusiastic bye to his friends before running to the back gate of the school and flipping over it, sprinting back home with a wide grin spread across his lips. He felt like his feet weren't even touching the ground as Peter whizzed past blurry buildings and semi-blurry cars, making it home in what felt like a matter of minutes. He flew up the stairs in a jumbled shout of "HiMr.Francisgladtoseeyou'rebackhomefromthehospitalhaveanicedaybye." 

He threw the front door open and slammed it shut, not bothering to lock it as he threw his backpack on the chair, jacket half-spilling out as he ripped the folds of paper that were spit out of the B.G.P. readings. His eyes flew over the numbers, stats, chromosome numbers and his eyes grew in shock. The remnants of excitement drained out of him in moments, and left him filled with a sickening worry and fear.

"Radiation level, 4,530 milliSievertn per hour, 74 Y chromosome, 930 X chromosome. Jesus, what the hell is all of this?! This can't be right, it must have read everything wrong, or something. Maybe Dr. Banners blood was also scanned; maybe it just malfunctioned."

Peter was almost panicking; not only was the radiation levels in his blood dangerous, but if these readings are correct he should have been dead the moment that spider bit him. Both his X and Y chromosomes were severely unbalanced; these results had to have been false.

"But how am I supposed to check? It's not like I could just walk straight into Stark Tower again, manage to hack the security a second time in one day, sneak into the lab and try again."

Peter was pacing now, adrenaline flowing through his veins just as potently as the venom in him. He went to grab his jacket and pulled it on violently, pulling his mask on and half-assing his gloves, he shoots himself out of his window and into the evening air. The wind was calming against his flushed skin, and the first five minutes lead him to some guy trying to rob a woman; needless to say, he was kept busy for a while.

He had to stop at around 1 AM when his cramping stomach grew to be too much. He stood from his criss-cross on the roof of some building and moved to slip off, before his Spidey Senses went haywire. 

He could hear the rumbling of the Iron Man suit before it landed almost directly behind him. Spider-man spun around and bent down, head between his knees and crouch wide enough to nearly be the splits; if he needed to, all he had to do was let his balance loosen and he'd plummet down into the streets below.

"You know, kid, you're really hard to track down; it's almost like you didn't even want to be found." The metallic voice of Tony Stark came from the suit before the endo-skeleton type chest plates opened and allowed the man to step out before Spider-man. 

"Maybe it's because I didn't." Spider-man's voice was low, rough, demanding; the exact opposite of Peter. In his suit, behind his mask, he was anyone he wanted to be. No fear to be felt, no worry of upholding an image. Peter can't do it, but Spider-man can, and he will. He flinched back as the man took a step forward, but no threat to his safety was made. In fact, when Tony noticed the movement he took two steps back, now level with his suit. Tony held his hands up in a placating way, and Spider-man relaxed minutely.

"Listen, I just wanted to talk. I noticed something happening in my labs earlier; but when I went to check the camera's, they were all blacked out. Like someone hacked them; now theoretically, that should be nearly impossible but, you see, after watching different angles for a while I noticed something."

Spider-man felt a cold sweat drip down his spine.

"We had a group of highschoolers in the labs today, being given a simple tour, not unusual; but here's the catch. I had seen an un-noticed little group of three people at the back, but when the group turned the corner, there was only two. One person, a Peter Parker, had left not two minutes before my camera's and sensors in the vents and on level 27 were shut down."

Spider-man shifted to lean back a little further, Spidey senses going crazy for some reason, even though Tony gave off no sign of possible harm. What was it then? His senses never malfunctioned, he would know; even when asleep or unconscious they managed to send signals. Spider-man kept his guard up, even through the tingling at the back of his neck.

"And it get's even better, don't worry. When the Gamma alarm went off, Dr. Banner had been in the room with us, so obviously it wasn't him, going up to do his weekly blood test. When we managed to get through the door, we noticed someone crawling through our air vents. But by the time Hawkeye climbed up, they were gone. What they didn't think through, however, was the blood sample left on the testing pad."

The blood in Spider-man's face flushed down to his stomach as Tony pulled up an image of Peter on his holo-watch; his name, birth day, current school status; Jesus Christ, even where he lived. Before Spider-man could think, he flung himself off of the rooftop and down to the street beneath him. He tried to right himself mid-fall, but just as his Spidey-senses went off someone caught him roughly around the waist. Spider-man let loose a shout as he was suddenly going up instead of down and oh no.

Thor, honest to fuck Thor, god of thunder and wielder of Mjolnir was carrying him beneath his arm as if he felt like nothing. (Honestly, at this point he probably did.) Spidey was placed back on the rooftop non-to-gently, right back in-front of Tony. 

"You see kid, that's not very nice of you to do." Tony looked just as calm as he was when he appeared in-front of Spider-man, as if he doesn't hold Peter Parker's entire life in his hands. Captain America stood behind Tony, thick arms crossed over his wide chest; eyebrows drawn down in a frown. The Dr. Bruce Banner stood next to Steve and looked slightly uncomfortable to be in the situation.  _You and me both, sir._

Spider-man decided the best course of action would be to stay and have a talk, maybe explain his situation to them. But he was also due to be back home before Aunt May went to check up on him after her shift and for her to find his bed empty would break her heart, so Spider-man really needed to go.

"listen," he started, stance wide and arms tensed. "I'm not Peter Parker, I wasn't in your labs, and I'm not staying for a chat." He tried to leave, walk past Thor and just cross over to the building across from them, but an arm laid across his chest, and halted him. When Spider-man looked up, it was to see the bright blue eyes of the soldier without a time. Steve Rogers, Captain America, is touching him. If this were any other day, and any other set of circumstances Peter would have cried tears of pure, raw joy. But these are not those days, those circumstances, and right now he is not Peter. He is Spider-man, and Spider-man has a set of rules. 

He grabbed the super-soldiers arm and planted his foot down on the ground, twisting his thighs and rotating his chest to throw the man back towards Thor. The god caught the man with a grunt, momentum causing the concrete beneath them to crumble in their waking slide. By the time Steve was righted, Spider-man was gone, leaping over buildings and swinging his webs once he got to a tall enough building to launch off of.

Steve, Thor, Bruce and Tony all stood, slightly gobsmacked. 

"Jesus, that kid's strong." Banner stated. "That would explain his readings then; god, that must have hurt. Steve are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Steve rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Kid's got a hell of a throw though."

"What must we do now?" Thor's rumbling voice cut through them. Tony mulled it over in silence, worrying his bottom lip for a moment before he smiled. 

"We know where he lives. We can just roll up when his Aunt leaves and he's there."

Steve looked disgruntled. "Are you suggesting we break an entering? That's illegal."

"So is vigilantism, but we do it almost every day. Come on boys, let's get some shut eye. We've got an important meeting with little Mr. Parker tomorrow."

 

 

 

 

Peter spilled through his window at roughly 1:30, which means he has half an hour until Aunt May comes back from the hospital, which leaves Peter thirty minutes to shower and settle into bed. And he did just that; noting the giant purpling bruise that spanned from one shoulder to another across his back he groaned; he's gonna be so sore tomorrow. He didnt so much shower as he did just let the water run down his back and across his curls. He shook his hair out violently and laid himself on his bed, closing his eyes but not quite falling asleep, but then not many things have been going his way these past few days.

He awoke to his door opening slowly, barely a creak coming from the hinges and he stayed stock still, Letting Aunt May walk in and kiss his forehead goodnight before leaving, keeping the door cracked only slightly as she went. Peter smiled to himself and allowed his body to sink back into his version of sleep once more.

Aunt May had a mid-day shift on Saturday; meaning she got to sleep in until she absolutely had to wake up. Peter, as usual, woke up at the first noise around him (which was just another stray cat scratching at his window) Peter got up almost immediately, opening his window sill enough to let the cat in as he popped open her weekly can of tuna and left it in-front of her. He placed his hand on Mercy's head for a moment, rubbing his thumb behind her ear before walking off, through his door-way and down to the kitchen. He looked to the stove and saw 8:00 flash on the clock. He had actually gotten six hours of sleep? Today must be making up for the hell he's gone through recently. 

Peter pulled his black hoodie and sneakers on, silently making his way through the front door and down to the little shop they thankfully had only two blocks from home. Aunt May normally just ate whatever was in the cafeteria at work, but Saturday mornings Peters thing; he's always taken care of Aunt May, doubly so when Ben passed. So every Saturday, Peter would go down to the shops and would buy a quarter of a pound of bacon, a four egg carton and a mini-bag of frozen, oven baked biscuits. Peter silently paid for his items and left the store, entering the street caused a heavy feeling to form in his gut; someone was watching him. Shrugging it off, Peter made his way back to the apartment and kicked his shoes to the side when he entered, closing the door behind himself, but not locking it. 

He placed the grocery bag on the counter and stuffed the eggs and bacon in the fridge, tossing the bag of biscuits in the freezer before turning to pick everything up a little. The usual before walking Aunt May up; wiping the couch down, throwing away any trash, doing the dishes and tossing the trash bags out to the dumpster usually kept him occupied long enough so that when he was done, he had enough time to shower and get Aunt May's breakfast ready before she had to leave for work. 

Peter turned the water on cold and shivered his way through the washing; leaping out and half-ass dressing himself in jeans and a red and blue flannel (hey, gotta stay on-brand), before going down-stairs to get breakfast ready. He turned the pan's on medium and brought the eggs and bacon out, throwing them both in their own individual pan when the temp was high enough. 

Just as he pulled two biscuits from the oven, he heard Aunt May begin to stir, opening her door and gracelessly tumbling down the stairs in a hazy fog of sleep.She accepted the plate held out for her with a smile and a kiss on his forehead before she sat herself at the table, slowly chewing her way through the meal and sipping the instant coffee he had made.

Aunt May, as usual, took long enough with her food that when she needed to leave she was rushing out the door, toothpaste on her shirt and hair a messy bun on the top of her head. She hugged him goodbye and made her way down the stairs, nearly tripping as she turned to close the door behind her. Peter smiled and began clearing her dishes when he heard something in his room; something probably just got knocked down thanks to Mercy. He should really just stop letting her in his room; he's walked in to half of a dead mouse on his pillow enough times to be justified in doing so. 

He sighed and crawled his way up the stairs, scratching his temple and pushing his curls off of his fore head for a moment. He opened the door and shooed Mercy out, throwing the can of tuna away in the dumpster right under his window and closed it shut. He heard something at the front door; gears in the lock clicking and he felt his pulse raise. It couldn't be Aunt May; she was already late as it is. Peter listened closer, ignoring the pounding of his heartbeat as another gear clicked open, then another, and another. 

His door was pushed open silently, the creaking of the hinges like an alarm to Peters ears. He went to grab his web-shooters, but halted. If it were robbers, how would he explain that away? Spider-man hasn't interfered with house-robbing before; and the criminals would end up seeing who shot the webs in the first place. Peter shook his head and placed the web-shooters back, and instead took the metal baseball bat he still had from base-ball in seventh grade and made his way down the stairs.

Now out from behind the cover of his door, he could hear murmuring voices; a woman, and some men. They didn't sound like they were going through anything, in fact Peter swears he just heard the toaster pop off-what the hell?

He turned the corner to the living room and froze- there, standing in-front of him were the avengers.

Clint Barton had the last Eggo waffle in his mouth, mostly eaten by now. Thor, in all his mighty glory, has seated himself on Peters kitchen chair and was taking large gulps from Aunt May's only stash of whisky she only opened on celebrations. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner were huddled together next to his sink, and The Black Widow was leaning against his counter.

None of them had donned their battle gear, and yet they all struck a very intimidating figure; Peter didn't know what to do, the bat dropped itself from it's raised position above his head and he took a small step back.Mr. Stark held his hands out non-threateningly, and Peter unfroze. He can't be Spider-man without the mask, so he put one on himself. Jaw tensing, eyebrows furrowing, he widened his stance and tightened both hands around the bat, lowered and ready to be swung. He was hunched, bent over almost unnaturally as he watched them all.

"Hey, kid. Listen, no need for this; we just want to talk-" Peter growled deep in his throat, lifting the bat slightly when Thor took a step closer to him. Thor smiled and laughed, stating "You think a puny mortal metal can harm the son of Odin?"

Tony cut in quickly, "Enough, Goldie-locks. We're not here to threaten, or insult. We're just here to talk. Peter, are you willing to listen?" 

Peter did not want to listen, he just wanted them to leave him alone, let him enjoy what bit of normalcy he had. He admired them, looked up to them, but he wasn't ready to actually  _know_ them. He was 15 for gods sake, he shouldn't have to worry about 90% of the stuff he does; and now he's got to throw his  _idol's_ into the mix? 

Despite his obvious regret and hesitance, Peter nodded and let himself rise from his bent position into something a bit more natural for a human body. He was  _so_ gonna end up regretting agreeing to this, wasn't he?


	2. Team-Work's For Everyone Else.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Peter is cornered, the Avengers can finally see the person who managed to hack into one of the most well-secured facilities on the planet.

Peter knew something was wrong with him; had known ever since the incident not five months ago. _Lab accident_ , someone said; n _o need to worry, all escaped experiments have been corralled and brought back to our holding center_. Peter had been out and about, buying some memory cards for Uncle Ben's camera when the accident had happened. Some Gamma testing had been going down at a government-funded lab across the street from the store, and led to a few hundred experiments loose. Simple bugs, some snakes; a rabbit or two. Nothing that could pose a threat to anyone as long as they were cautious for a few days. 

Peter had thought nothing of it; had bought the memory cards and walked through the door. A giant spider, something that looked like it belonged to a Stephen King book landed on the back of his neck. It had bitten him before he could brush it off, and Peter bit down a scream. The man inside didn't give him much thought, he just watched Peter nearly collapse, before picking himself back up and bringing a hand up to his neck; grabbing the spider in his hand and bringing it around, looking at it. 

 

It was fat and round, larger than his palm; a bright blue and black, it's eyes were larger than his pinky finger-nail. It tried to bite him again, but Peter had thrown it to the ground and stomped on it before it could. He walked briskly away, neck throbbing; feeling like he had been injected by molten lava and liquid nitrogen at the same time; it was spreading from his neck, down his spine and into his limbs.

By the time Peter got home he was a sweaty mess, hands shaking and knees weak as he collapsed on the couch, bag hanging off his hand as he fell unconscious. He had slept fitfully, tossing and turning for hours before waking up in a cold sweat, feeling like every single bone in his body was being broken, then fixed, and broken over and over again. Peter kept his screams to himself, not wanting the police to come barging in, but it was excruciating; his teeth chipped and cracked from how hard he clenched them. This had lasted for hours, he was curled up on the couch as everything in him melted and froze and broke and mended themselves all at the same time, over and over _and over again_.

The next time he woke up, it was to the feeling of his muscles being torn to shreds; like someone was electrocuting him for hours one end. The night sky was out, and he thanked whatever god was real that Aunt May was visiting a friend for the weekend, otherwise Peter would have to watch her fret and panic, bring him to the hospital and waste thousands of dollars that they didn't have to find out what was happening.

He finally felt a reprieve at four AM, his body going numb as his fever slowly reduced. He crawled from the sweat-soaked cushions and up to the bathroom; each step felt like he had five hundred pound weights strapped to his body. He opened the medicine cabinet and popped five Advil's in his mouth before pulling his wet clothing off, slowly. Scrunching his nose at the smell of stress sweat, he carefully stepped under the warm water and groaned, rinsing but not washing; he didn't have the energy. 

By the time he fell into his bed it was almost five, and he wouldn't lie by saying that the amount of sleep he got that day was more than he's had in months. 

He had woken up the next day, feeling weird. Not that it was a bad weird; it was great, actually. He didn't feel tired, or sore; his chest rose and fell without any struggle, and his eyes were so sharp he could see the detail in the popcorn ceiling without any struggle at all. In fact, he could even see the dust flying around the room; the individual flecks of it, no less!

That day he heard on the news about the break out; about the gamma experimentation and the accident. They said no casualties had been connected to the spill, and all experiments were being taken care of at that very moment. Peter's hand brought itself to the back of his neck, feeling for the large (and most likely infected) spider bite he had gotten, only to find smooth and unblemished skin. He had panicked, spinning to run towards his room, leaving the small bowl of his cereal forgotten on the counter. 

He went to throw his door opened, and jumped when it was literally  _thrown._ His door then lay on the floor of his room, the wooden framing fell down around him. 

That day, Spider-man was born; although Peter didn't realize how true that statement  _Really_ is.

 

 

Peter led the Avengers into the small living-room, watching them from the corner as they all awkwardly sat themselves on the couch. Peter himself decided against sitting, just in case; he placed himself on the coffee table elegantly, head nearly in-between his knees and arms wrapped around his shins.

"You said you wanted to talk to me. So, talk."

Dr. Banner cleared his throat awkwardly before beginning.

"The Gamma levels found in your blood are, in the kindest of terms, concerning; by all accounts, you should be dead. All we want to do is make sure you and your Aunt are going to be okay-"

Peter raised a hand to stop him, face neutral.

"No, you don't. If you did you would have actually asked me, or even contacted my Aunt due to your 'so called' concern. What you want is my consent for something. Am I wrong?"

Silence answered him; good. Peter seemed to be on the right track.

"So if I'm following correctly, you want to ask me something, ( _obviously_ ) but it doesn't include any input from my Aunt. Logically you know she has no clue what I've done; in fact, the only reason you know is because I didn't think about two different variables; my DNA on the blood pad and the camera's possibly having me within their sights during the beginning of the tour. Are you following?"

Not very shockingly, Peter has managed to turn the conversation around; now they were the ones being questioned. Neither Natasha or Clint seemed to react, the only ones in the group who seemed un-bothered. but they aren't very obvious in their thoughts outwardly, either, so not much to go on there. Peter gnaws on his bottom lip as he scans them all before continuing.

"You obviously know about what I do, otherwise you wouldn't have broken into my house; which, by the way, not a very 'superhero' thing to do. Either way, you've entered my home with no forward warning, and no guaranties that you won't go to drastic measures to get what you want from me. "

Steve seemed shocked at this, eyes widening and he leaned forward slightly, as if to correct Peter's observation.

"No, don't; you people work for S.H.I.E.L.D, right?I may not have extensive files on them, but I do know that they aren't exactly innocent or forgiving when they want something. Am I correct in this observation, Miss Romanoff?"

Peter watched her vacant face, looking for some sort of outward reaction; but instead she just smiled. No malice or anger, it even reached her eyes. As if it were genuine. She's good at this, Peter'll have to admit.

"You really are smart, kid." She turned to look at Clint as she said this; they knew something. Peter tensed ever so slightly, watching their little exchange of eye contact for another moment before returning his attention to the situation at hand.

"You have decided I was worth looking into, ( _and if Peter were being honest, he was truly flattered; but he cant afford that now_ ) but if this were  _Just_ a case of being 'worth it', you would save your own time, maybe send an agent, or just one or two of you; not the entirety of the Avengers. That leads me to two different conclusions for this meeting."

Peter held his hand up, and lifted his pointer finger.

"One, you've decided I'm a possible asset to your group, and have seen fit to try and recruit me by using the excuse of worry and concern to both experiment on the contamination in my blood, and use my abilities for whatever you see fit."

Peter lifted his middle finger.

"Or two, you see me as a threat and are currently using the reasoning of my being in danger to lock me up somewhere, where I can pose no threat to anyone; with the added bonus of experimentation. Am I incorrect?"

Tony, who had decided right then was the moment to take a drink from his water, choked and spluttered indignantly for a moment.  "Jesus kid, what the hell? We'd never-" 

"Don't lie to me." Peter's voice was harsh and void, so unlike what he usually sounded like. It made his skin crawl; he can't be Spider-man right now, but he can play the part. He can pretend; pretending is easy, it's the knowledge that he's being someone he's not that makes him on edge. Steve placed a hand in the air to take hold of the discussion, or maybe to explain something. Peter let him.

"What Tony meant to imply, is that while we do want to help you, we'd never force you. Your in danger; we just want to help."

Peter felt his blood pressure rise, heart beating loudly in his ears. "I thought I just said not to lie to me? I don't like it when people think they can pull something over me; it's infuriating and insulting."

Peter's voice was no longer void, but it wasn't exactly expressive either; it just. Was.

"I know better than to believe that, Steve. I've done my handful of research, and I know what people employed under S.H.I.E.L.D have done; just because you are public figures gives me no reason to trust you. Your main motive is not to help me; it may be a factor in all of this, and I'm not saying it isn't. But I'm also saying I know my health isn't important enough to warrant the Avengers interfering. You have one more chance to tell me the truth, with no hidden secrets, no lies, no excuses; what do you want."

Peter challenged, watching to collective reactions from them all. The only ones who seemed un-bothered by Peters refusal of their reasoning's seemed to be the only two genuine agents in the room. Natasha seemed more amused than anything, looking down at her crossed legs with a smile. 

Finally, to break the extraordinarily tense silence, Clint sighed and leaned forward, placing his interlocked fingers in-between his knees, and resting his weight on his thighs with his elbows.

"Listen kid, I'm not gonna lie to you; god knows you've made it clear you don't appreciate it. We didn't come here expressly to check your stability. We noticed the amount of skill it takes to complete the stunt you pulled. Not only did you manage to hack into Stark security, but you made it seem effortless; I mean, we've got state of the art tech that takes hours to do what you managed in less than two minutes. We're offering you a place on the team, if you're willing. You'd be given benefits, of course; hospital visits would be paid for, a solid salary to depend on, and people around you who can teach you how to manage your life around this 'superhero' gig. We're not trying to pretend to be your friends; it's pretty obvious we've got some trust issues happening between us right now. But we're willing to help, if you're willing to accept." 

Silence hung in the air as Peter observed his options; obviously, accepting this puts him at a greater risk in terms of his identity. Everyone in this room knows enough about him to place both he and Aunt May in a lot of danger; but they also offer quite a bit in terms of security and the probability of evening out the horrible imbalance of radiation and chemicals in his blood, not including the fact that he'd be one of the only kids he knows who can say they work with the Avengers; but Peter isn't one to make brash decisions. He needs' to think about this rationally.

"Am I going to be allowed time to think about this?" Peter's voice rang with the same amount of power it had started off with, although not as loud. Natasha nodded towards him, standing and brushing her skirt down before regarding the rest of the team.

 "Are you all ready to go? We still need to get to that meeting with Fury."

She turned to Peter as the others clambered to the front door. 

"Meet us on the top of Stark Tower at midnight if you decide to accept."

Peter watched them leave through the door, closing it behind themselves; he listened as they made their way down the hallway, then to the stairs. Once he was sure they were gone, he stood himself up and made his way to his room swiftly. He lay himself on the bed and closed his eyes, allowing the past twenty minutes roll around in his head over and over and over _and over_ again. He re-played what happened, offered himself alternate outcomes. Watching May get dragged into this, or them deciding he's not worth the trouble and just locking him up. Of them allowing him free range of the labs and training floor. there were so many outcomes from this simple decision of  _yes or no_ it was almost mind-boggling. Or maybe he's just being dramatic; he  _is_ a teenager after-all. 

He's splayed out all the possible endings so many times that once he made his final decision and opened his eyes, it was almost dark outside and Aunt May was opening his door.

"Peter sweetie, I'm going to bed early; there's left over lasagna in the fridge from work if you get hungry."

"Okay Aunt May; good night. Love you."

"Love you too, Pete."

Once he heard her bedroom door close, he shot up and threw his suit on; his right hand glove had a hole in one of the fingertips, which irked him slightly. But he let it go as he shot out into the dark city.

Spider-man made his way through the structures of midtown; watching all the offices and shops whizzing past him settled Spider-man's nerves ever so slightly. He contorted mid-air, his arms below his thighs and feet up past his head before he caught himself, the momentum from his next swing tossing him to the corner of Jefferson, which placed him close to where Stark Tower sat. 

He grappled to the corner of some office, one hand holding him there and the other hanging to his side. He brought his knee up and squatted on the building, bringing his free hand up to check the watch connected to his wrist.

**11:53**

He brought his hand back down and let himself sit there for a moment; just gazing over the city. When Peter was little, he had always dreamed of meeting Tony Stark; way before the Avengers, before Iron Man. Peter had looked up to the man since before he could remember; and to have not only been in his lab, but for the man to see him as an asset? To see him as someone with potential was something that would always make Peter smile.

But right now he was not Peter Parker; he was not the young man with hopes for a free-ride scholarship to Stanford, he's not the 15-year-old who's been looking up to the members of the Avengers since before it was even brought together _(Thank his brain for being smart enough to hack into secure Government files, am I right?)_. He's not that boy, not right now; no. Now, he's a man who is brutal, tough, forgiving, sarcastic and slightly sadistic; right now, he's Spider-man. And right now, Spider-man need's to realize that Peter's little idolization for the people who broke into Peters home will have no effect on Spider-man. Spider-man isn't weak like Peter, can stand his own in a fight no problem. 

Peter Parker can pretend to be Spider-man, but he isn't; he can posture and talk all he want's, but he is nothing without the mask Spider-man has given life to. Nothing. It was not only Peter Parker they had seen an asset in- they not only wanted Peter's brains, but they wanted Spider-man's agility, speed, and strength. Without Spider-man, Peter would have just been another face in a crowd.

Spider-man let himself fall from his perched position and flip through the air, activating his web-shooter and allowing his momentum to fling him up to the side of Stark Tower. Spidey stood up quickly, running the scale of the sky-scraper as fast as he could, reaching the top in less than a minute. He flipped over the ledge of the tower, landing softly and looking up around him; the Avengers stood there.

In Peters home, they cut an intimidating stature; but out here? Here they were almost scary. Spider-man stood slowly, watching as Tony walked towards him; stride wide and arms crossed. When he reached Spider-man, he opened his arms and asked,

"Well kid? What's the choice?"

Spider-man jerked his head up to look him in the eye (if it were possible to see his eyes behind the thick lenses) and postured.

"If I had decided I didn't want to join, do you really think I would have shown up at all?"

Even he noticed the bite in his tone, but he didn't back down until Tony decided to move; Spider-man isn't the one in control right now, per-se, but he is the person who could just drop off the corner of the building if he saw fit, so he didn't feel like bending to their will.

"Great!" Tony clapped his hands together loudly, making Spider-man's shoulders twitch slightly. "Then come on inside and we'll talk about all this. I doubt you feel very comfortable agreeing to something without actually knowing  _exactly_  what you're agreeing to."

Tony opened the door and led Spider-man inside, watching the web-slinger as he slowly took a step at a time, shoulders drawn taut and hands at his sides, spine straight as a board.

Tony turned to look back in-front of him as they walked, commenting.

"You know, kid; if you actually want to do some crime fighting in a suit that doesn't look like it'll fall apart within the next ten minutes, you could just ask. I am an engineer, after all; I could make you something that is a bit more comfortable and protective than some cloth."

Spider-man startled; his foot almost caught on the small gap between the elevator doors. The avengers all piled into the elevator, looking at him expectantly. He stepped in, shrinking himself to the back wall.

"Spider-child." Thor's booming voice managed to cover the entirety of the awkward silence that had swallowed the elevator, and then some. Spider-man turned to him, eyes leveled to his stomach for a moment before he looked up.

"The man of Iron has demonstrated many of your feats to us; and we are very thankful you have agreed to assist us all in our battles." Thor placed a large, but gentle hand across Spider-man's back as the doors opened up to a spacious living area.

"....I'm glad you could see an asset in me." Spider-man was in shock; he didn't understand why though. It irritated him. 

"Want anything to drink, kid? Water? Gatorade? We've got some apple-juice boxes in the fridge if you want one."

There wasn't so much mockery in Tony's voice as there was a light, teasing tone; Spider-man let it go, deciding that looking around the room was more important. The ceiling was high; the wall to his left was, from floor to ceiling, glass. Spider-man knocked his knuckle against it twice, listening to the small little 'tink-tink' it made upon contact. 

"So, uh; Peter, I need to ask you a few questions before we actually discuss the, uh, conditions of our partner-ship."

Dr. Banner was quiet and awkward, but seemed to move with a purpose as he sat himself down in one of the many chairs in the room. Spider-man didn't correct him on his name; thought it a waste of time. They wouldn't understand Spider-man anyway. He watched as the other Avengers gathered around, looking out of place and stiff, even though it was supposed to be the other way around. Spider-man nodded, seated himself on one of the counters closest to him. He brought his foot up to place it flat on the surface, leaned his right arm on his knee and let his left leg hang off the corner; still as a statue.

"So," Dr. Banner started, looking away from Spider-man and down towards some papers that were placed on the glass table in-front of him.

"I am slightly concerned when regarding your gamma-to-blood ratio. I would have to do some research, of course, but looking at the basic analysis here; it says that not only are your X and Y chromosomes completely out of balance, but that you have a milliSievert reading of over 4,000. Normally that reading would be considered false, or at least tested three to four more times, just to be sure. But looking at your abilities, and your, uh, demeanor; it tells me that it most likely isn't a false reading."

Demeanor? What's he talking about? Spider-man acts completely normal; besides, how would he know? He doesn't know Spider-man, or Peter Parker for that matter. He just knows a few readings from Peter's blood. He doesn't know anything past numbers and lines of code.

"But just to test it out," Tony interjected himself through Spider-man's thought process, "We would really appreciate it if you were to agree to some testing; nothing major." He was hasty to defend when he saw Spider-mans shoulders draw up, tense, "Just some readings on your heart rate, brain waves, blood tests."

Spider-man detested the idea of letting someone else stick needles in him, of allowing someone control over him. He felt cornered now; he didn't like it. And what does Spider-man do when he doesn't like something? He reacts.

"You really expect me to agree to have someone poke and prod at me? Like I'm some sort of science project; like I'm not even a person anymore?"

Dr. Banner jumped to defend his reasoning; closing his eyes, lowering his head, and waving the one hand that's not holding the papers in the air.

"No, not at all; I just want to ensure is that the gamma levels in your blood aren't somehow affecting the chemicals in you brain. I'm speaking from experience here, I know what it felt like; and I know how you feel right now, but let me assure you, there's nothing we'll do that we won't inform you of, in  _explicit_ detail. I promise."

Spider-man jerked his head to the side, towards where the rest of the Avengers sat, staring between their exchange.

"And what is the riffraff doing here? Doesn't seem to me they have much to add to this."

Steve stood forward slightly, thick arms crossed; much like their first meeting. 

"Just because we won't be the ones to do this testing doesn't mean we shouldn't be involved. No offense kid, but if there is something wrong with you, we'll be the ones to have to clean it up if you decide the hero business isn't your style. If you really are agreeing to join us, you'll have to know how to work with us; and to do that, we'll all have to get along."

Spider-man huffed and twisted his head to the side, jaw behind his shoulder in a pout.

"Just because you're right, doesn't mean I have to like it." Spider-man muttered, letting his leg slip off of the counter and planting it to the ground. He turned to regard the Avengers, glowering. (though the mask probably renders that pointless.)

"Don't think just because I'm agreeing to help you, that it means we're friends. If I don't ask for your help in something, then don't bother. Just because I'm joining doesn't mean I think this'll boost me in terms of publicity; no one knows who I am, and I'd prefer it to stay that way. I'm not doing any social gatherings, or parties, or whatever else you guys have done for the public. I get there, I help, I'm gone. I don't want to be your friend, I don't want you to invest any 'personal' time into me. Treat me like a co-worker, and I'll do the same. I'll show up for the experiments, and you're testing. Otherwise, stay out of my business. Have we come to an agreement?"

Spider-man let silence enfold the room ad the group stared.

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing, kid." Tony seemed hesitant, reserved. So un-like how he usually acts. "We'll get the testing room sorted out tomorrow. We'll come get you-" 

"No need." Spider-man interjected, tossing a little pager to him. 

"I made these for this exact reason; whenever you need my help, just page me. I'll always have it on me, so no need to seek me out physically. Anything else we need to discuss?"

Spider-man looked at them pointedly, waiting for the silence to enfold them for a moment before nodding, turning to leave back up the stairs to the rooftop. He patiently and calmly walked up the stairs, noting the camera in the corner of every turn. Once he made it to the door, he swung it open and made a mad dash towards the ledge, where he flipped off and fell into the night air.

 

Back in the Tower, things were tense; like,  _really_ tense.

"What's wrong with that kid?"

Steve snapped, watching the door to the stairs fall closed and leaving the team alone, to stew in their thoughts.

"We offer him help, offer him people who can understand what he's going through, and he treats us like that?" He shook his head, momentary anger letting loose to resignation. 

"Look at it from his perspective though," Natasha pointed out, grabbing an apple and taking a small bite out of it. "He's not even out of high-school yet and he's already doing as much as we are. He's, what, 16?"

She pulled his file out, the hologram showing Peter's Sophomore photo. "He's 15, lives alone with an Aunt who can barely afford to feed them both, gets beaten to a near pulp every night, possesses powers no one else he knows has, and now he has to deal with a bunch of people who he doesn't know if he can trust poking needles in him; treating him like a bomb that's about to go off. If I were him, I'd be a bit snappy too."

Peter's photo looked nothing like the boy they met in the apartment. Peter looked younger; happier. His cheeks were splitting into a wide grin, teeth chipped and nose scrunching slightly in the smile. The boy they had met that day was thin, ragged; looked like he'd been through hell and back. Like he had given up on almost everything.

Tony went over to stand next to Natasha, pulling a video from his archive of the first fight the kid had been known to be involved in. A simple bank-robbery. He didn't even have the hoodie on; all he had around his face was a crudely cut mask that looked like it came from an old shirt. Nothing else. The group watched as Spider-man grabbed the giant truck they had used to transport the money and halted it, front tires screeching against pavement as they tried to accelerate. They watched as one of the men leaned out from the drivers window and pulled a gun out, shooting at Spider-man; Peter actually started to  _flip_ the truck over. Not violently; not causing a scene. He just turned it on it's side, laying it down on the road.

The man in the drivers seat crawled out of the door, and they watched as Peter shot a web at the barrel of the gun just as the man pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot filled the speaker, and yet; Peter stood. Unharmed. 

"My god," Steve muttered.

"He stopped a bullet after the trigger was pulled, but before it left the barrel." Tony explained, flicking more videos up onto the screen. "That's not even the best part; he's thrown entire buses around like they're nothing. He's kept collapsing buildings up long enough to evacuate everyone, stopped suicides off bridges and rooftops, saved people from muggings and back-alley murderers."

Tony pulled up a video from a corner street camera; it showed a young woman and her daughter. They both looked like they had seen better days, and the mother pulled her daughter behind her as a man cornered them. He seemed wrong; shaking his head side to side, before yelling indistinctly at the woman and raising his arm into the air, a large knife in his hand.

They saw a blur of red and blue flash across the screen, and suddenly the knife was embedded in someones back. Spider-man had grabbed the mother and girl, swinging up to a rooftop and gently settling them there, then dropped back down to the alleyway. He hunched slightly, yanking the knife from his back and tossing it to the side with a groan. He webbed the man's feet to the ground, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath. He took a few steps towards the man and brought his leg up, kicking him square across the face, then once more and watched the man puddle to the ground, unconscious. 

'He's good at what he does, I'll give him that." Clint added, biting into a banana as he watched a clip of Spider-man stopping a man who called himself 'the rhino.' Spider-man was chattering the whole time, complaining about some science report that was due in a week, grabbing the giant horn the man had at the front of his head. He pulled the man over himself, slamming him down into the ground violently; the pavement beneath him crumbling.

 

 

Peter had woken up the next morning in a rush, scrambling to make sure the apartment was clean and orderly so he could hang out with Ned and MJ later that day. 

Since the spider-bite, Peter's been having trouble getting alone time with his friends. Sure, they knew what he did; but was that really enough? He didn't have time for movie nights anymore, or studying parties or Star-Wars binges. He was Spider-man, he hardly found time in-between nights to sleep and eat, let alone have some actual,  _personal_ time. 

The apartment was sparkling, and Peter vibrated in excitement as he closed the door behind him, making his way out of the apartment and towards Ned's house. 

"Dude," Peter said into the phone once it was answered. "I have so much to tell you when I get there."

"It better not be anything about  _The Rise Of Skywalker,_ you know I haven't seen yet."

Peter snorted, "Yeah, neither have I you fool; we promised to go see it together."

Peter and Ned talked the entire time he was walking to his house, listening through the phone as he rung the doorbell, and a  _"Alright dude, give me a sec"_ later, Peter was walking in through the door and giving Miss Leeds a greeting hug before the two teens ran up the stairs and into Ned's room. Peter tossed his bag next to Ned's, jumping onto his bed and squatting there, watching Ned gather the death-star Lego they've spent three months building.

"Dude," Peter got Ned's attention.

"I'm joining the Avengers."

Scratch that, they'll be spending the next four months  _re-_ building it.


	3. Learning French, Duh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has decided, a week into this agreement, that it was the best decision he's ever made. Now as long as he can keep his Avengers life away from both his Spider-man and Peter Parker life, he'd be golden.  
> The world doesn't really work like that; you'd think he would have figured it out by now. You can dream, right?  
> (Warning: Blood, Death, ahead.)

Peter never would have imagined this happening; who would have? There's almost 20 different schools here, who would they choose his? For a startling moment, Peter was frozen stiff in the hallway while everyone else quietened down, and upon hearing more gunshots screamed and began to flee to random classrooms in a blind panic. Peter made sure to find Ned and MJ in the hallway and directed them to Mr. Fenton's science room; he always put them before himself. Peter can take a bullet, and he's not risking anyone else to avoid it himself.

He silently stalked through the now empty hallway, watching as every classroom closed their blinds and shut the lights off. He lifted his lockers off the floor and snatched his hoodie and mask, snapping his web-shooters on his wrist and tossing his backpack on the top of the lockers. He thanked his lucky stars the school was too cheap to have security cameras in every hallway. He shot down the hallway, footsteps silent and quick as he made his way to the front office, where the gun shots were first heard. Spider-man stopped in the doorway to the office where the two security guards were laying, blood pooled around them and the acrid stench of released bowls filling Spider-man's nose. He glanced into the office, stepping over the bodies gently. 

The school sectary was still in her chair, chest heaving as blood loss slowly drained her face of color. She gasped wetly when she noticed Spider-man, reaching a hand out over the desk in panic as the life drained out of her. He grabbed it tightly, giving as much comfort as he could in her last moments. She smiled, blood staining her teeth as she tried to talk. 

"M-My son," she gasped, and Spider-man's heart lurched. "His birthday, we-we, last month. He wanted a Spider-man party. He's, he's had a huge- huge crush on you for months now."

"I would have loved an invite." Spider-man watched as she laughed, blood covering her white blouse. 

"I wish I knew how to give you one. He wanted to do it again for his next one." 

Tears trailed down Mrs. Spencer's cheeks as she spoke, and she sobbed.

"I- I"' she tried to speak, but Spider-man could hear her heart. It was slowing rapidly, was finally giving out.

"Please," she panicked, "I can't- I can't leave him. I-"

Her heart slowly stopped beating, and her grip loosened in Spider-mans grip. Spider-man set her hand down, placing the photo of her six-year old face up, and laying her palm down on-top of it in respect. Spider-man pulled her monitor to face him, making his way through the files until he pulled the camera's up. He searched through the halls, screen flashing every time he switched to a different camera. Some of the halls were completely empty, and some showed bodies laying on the floor, teenagers and teachers alike. Spider-man watched as the camera switched again, and the group of men with ski masks and large guns were hiding out in the lunch room, a gaggle of random teens being held at gun point.

Spider-man gave Mrs. Spencer one last fleeting look, leaning over to close her blank eyes before running off, shoes squeaking with the blood of the security guards as he went. He ran as fast as he could, passing lockers and classrooms, all shut and locked now. Spider-man reached the lunchroom doors in record time, peaking through the little window each door had and gazing around the room.

There was about seventeen kids, all huddled up in one corner as three men pointed their guns at them, five other were huddled in a circle, whispering. Spider-man tried to listen in, but one of the students caught his eye through the window and startled, nearly tipping over in shock for a moment. Spider-man ducked down just in case someone noticed, and cursed when he heard one of the men yell out to his men that someone was outside the door. Spider-man gave a mental shrug, deciding

_"Now or never."_

 

The doors were thrown open by one man while another began firing his gun to an empty doorway. The firing froze after a moment, and at that moment Spider-man dropped from the ceiling and grabbed the barrel of the gun and pointed it up right as the man began to fire again. Spider-man pulled the gun towards him and kicked the man in the stomach at the same time, hearing ribs snap and crack under his force. He took the butt of the gun and slammed it into the other mans skull forcefully, knocking him unconscious.

The other men in the room startled and spun towards Spider-man, who threw the gun behind himself before leaping into the mess. Five men went to aim their guns towards him, and followed messily when he shot to the ceiling. Spider-man crouched down to the ceiling as they began to fire; Spider-man began to crawl forward quickly, unnaturally bent down to avoid the bullets. He crawled over their heads and fell down behind them, taking two men's heads into his hands and slamming their skulls together, splitting earlobes and watched them fall to the ground, out cold.

The kids huddled in the corner began screaming, filtering out of the lunchroom and down the halls in a panicked heard. Spider-man felt more than heard someone move up behind him quickly, and the barrel of a gun pressed to his spine.   
"Listen, fucker." A man ground out, the barrel pressing further into his back.

"You just cost us our ticket out of here; so I'll strike a deal with you, you fucking freak. We'll use you to keep the police off our back, and when we're out of the city I'll blow your head off and make it painless."

The only two other men with him mumbled to each other in doubt for a moment before falling silent. Spider-man stood there silently for a moment before spinning, movements a blur as he grabbed the gun and bent the barrel upwards swiftly, the metal groaning under his force. He grabbed the back of the man's skull and smashed it into his forehead, feeling the man's own forehead crack under the force of it. The two men looked at him and dropped their guns silently, bringing their hands into the air ahead of them. Spider-man webbed their hands together and kicked them to the floor, webbing their feet down and leaving them there, kicking their guns across the room and against the wall. 

Spider-man slithered into the men's bathroom and ripped the hoodie and mask off, the blood in his gloves soaking through the fabric and staining the skin beneath it. He violently scrubbed his hands for a solid minute to help Peter calm himself down before wiping his face and leaving, making his way to an adjacent hallway and retrieving his bag and stuffing his hoodie under the lockers again. He locked himself in a stall and crouched on the toilet seat and waited, listening for the sirens that were due to pull up any second now. 

 

Four hours later, Peter sat curled up in Aunt May's lap as she ran a hand through his hair comfortingly; she had said she'd be taking the next three days off, but Peter refused. 

"We can't afford time off, Aunt May. I'll be fine; I promise."   

  _"I can't- I can't leave him. I-"_

Peter had kissed May goodbye; he wouldn't be seeing her for two days, since she was taking a double shift tonight and would just be sleeping at the hospital, since there wasn't even enough time between her shifts to make it back home before she had to be back on shift. It meant extra cash, sure; but it also meant he wouldn't see Aunt May for _two days_. Peter felt bad for being thankful the school had given them the rest of the week off, meaning summer started early since this was supposed to be their last week. Peter felt a pang in his heart at the thought that today was also the last day for a lot of people; today was the last time someone would see their kid. God, what would Aunt May have done if Peter had gotten caught? What if Aunt May had lost Peter as well?

Peter could feel the pit in his stomach deepen, and the pull towards the window strengthened and doubled. Peter felt guilty, but not guilty enough to keep him from pulling his mask on, pulling the hoodie up; ignoring the bloodied gloves, he shot out the window without them. Spider-man had been swinging around, without purpose or a plan for a solid hour before his pager beeped, alerting him.

He brought the small screen up to his eyes and read the message; brief, apparently a meeting out at the Tower. Spider-man's only been at the tower twice now; both on very unfortunate terms; and today is no different. The heavy feeling in Spider-man's stomach hadn't left, not allowing him to eat or drink, lest it comes back up five minutes later. His stomach twisted at the thought, and Spider-man pushed the nausea down as he landed on the roof and made his way down the stairs, into the main lobby. 

The room was brightly lit, and appears to have been modified in the two days he's been gone. A fridge sat in the corner, and small things like an extra few bookshelves and a much larger couch sat in the room with the coffee table moved further away from it, closer to the wall than the couch itself. Natasha and Clint sat on the couch while Steve, Tony and Bruce circled around a counter quietly discussing something between themselves. They all had their civilian clothes donned on. They even seemed to have halted any conversation they were having upon his entrance, looking to him sharply.

"Peter," Natasha started, rising from the couch. Spider-man's shoulders hunched further down as she moved, but she either didn't notice (unlikely) or just didn't care to point it out. "We heard about what happened on the news."

Spider-man watched as Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Steve stood to attention upon Natasha's voice, had felt a cold sweat cover him head to toe. He slid a foot behind himself, crouching down with one hand spread out for balance behind him, and the other planting itself next to his foot in-front of him. Natasha raised her hands in the air, taking a step back immediately at the obvious show of hostility and distrust.

 "No no; you misunderstand our intentions." She stated, watching him tense. Spider-man felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. 

"We didn't call you here to threaten you, kid." Steve came up to stand next to Natasha. Peter felt bashful at the acknowledgement of his existence, but Spider-man pushed him back down to the sub-field of himself for now.  

"Quite the contrary; we heard the reports from the hostages that Spider-man had come to their rescue. Nicely done, by the way." Tony had brought up the surveillance caught in the lunchroom; watched himself flip and dive beneath bullets.

Tony's praise was not exactly a cold balm Spider-man's frayed nerves, but he did calm slightly, seeing as his spidey senses still didn't act up. 

"But," Natasha interrupted, "We also know that you had come across a few things." Spider-man tilted his head to the side, confused.

"The school camera's caught you with the secretary, Peter." She finished the sentence in a lowered voice, something like pity in her eyes. 

"And?" His voice was terse, his body still tensed to run.

"And? What do you mean, 'and?' You're fifteen, Peter; not only did you see two already dead bodies, but you had to watch someone else die, right in front of you."

Silence met Steve's words, and Spider-man was still slightly confused; why did they page him here? They just said he did good, and there was nothing to really discuss, since obviously there was no threat for the team to react to, Natasha and Clint were dressed in civilian clothes; in fact, they all were.

At Spider-man's silence, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, making the same face Aunt May made when she heard Peter say something stupid, and the comparison sent a small wave of guilt through the part of him that was Peter.

"Spider," Thor boomed, leaning down to place a hand on Spider-man's shoulder; ignoring how he tensed, he brought him Spider-man into a standing position with a tight grip on both shoulders.

"On this day, you have seen death. No matter how strong a warrior claims he is, he always feels affected by that first touch of death on others; of the sight when companions lose their lives. All we are doing is offering open ears to your sorrows felt upon this sight."

Spider-man grabbed the wrist of Thor's hand and slowly moved it away, letting go once it was off his shoulder.

"You're all mistaken; this isn't the first time I've seen something like this. I dealt with it by myself fine the first time, and the second and the third. _This_  time isn't any different."

Tony cringed, and Spider-man wondered what he had done; should he not have mentioned that? He was hasty to sooth them, letting Peter make an attempt.

"Listen, I'm all cool, you guys. I've seen worse; honestly. If I got freaked out every-time I see something gross, or have to watch someone die, I'd be out of a job." This time, Clint looked down to his feet and Banner flinched, looked to his side and out of the window to avoid eye contact. Spider-man let silence hand in the air for a moment before the pit in his stomach grew to be too much, and he turned to leave.

"I promise I'm all good; besides, we made a deal. Stay out of my personal business, you have no obligation to help me, I assure you; I've been functioning just fine on my own for the past six months before you entered the picture, and I'll be doing just fine on my own now that your here. You can keep to yourselves, and I'll do the same." 

With that, Spider-man had left. He did feel bad, brushing their concern away. Peter would have loved for the Avengers to dote on him; to be the center of their attention for even one moment. But Spider-man couldn't afford for them to get in the way of his job, and even if Peter would end up never forgiving him, Spider-man will still refuse help from then until the day he feels he really needs it. He could feel Peter in his head, complaining and chastising Spider-man sharply about showing respect, but he brushed him off easily. 

**_"You need to stop ignoring them. Let them help us; at this point it's almost glaringly obvious we need it."_ **

"Shut up, Peter." Spider-man mumbled, jerking his lower body forward to make a sharp turn, letting his weight leave his last web; allowing himself to free fall for a moment before setting another one out and letting his momentum bring him into a high arch. He could feel the discontent radiating off of Peter, but at this point it's not worth the trouble of attempting to sooth the boy. All he want's is for _captain America_ to cradle Peter in his big, strong arms-

**_"You're the one with the man crush, not me. Leave me alone."_ **

"You've been picking on me for weeks Peter; in all fairness, I have all rights to tell you to stop being such a wimp and just take your lumps."

The silence that met Spider-man was not unexpected, but still uncomfortable. It was just a little- Spider-man was used to Peter chatting his ear off; he's almost become static noise to Spider-man, and vice-versa for when Peter comes out for work and socializing. Spider-man is a constant stream of information and thoughts; Spider-man is almost certain that they are just split completely in half, like one isn't complete without the other. Spider-man could feel something heavy in his mind; something that wasn't usually there. Weird.

**_"...Do you really think it's a good idea to ignore this? I mean, this-this isn't what it used to be like. There was one- not, no thoughts of someone else. It was just one of us, but at this point.."_ **

****

**~~"We can't tell which one of us it was."~~ **

 

 

The following week was a wacky one, that's for sure. Peter didn't have any school work to do, Ned was out on a vacation cruise for three weeks with his mom, and MJ was in Kentucky on one of her aunts farm for the larger part of summer. That meant Peter and Spider-man were mostly either with Aunt May, hiding in their room or swinging through the city. Although Spider-man had toned the web-slinging down these past few days; fatigue, irritation, exhaustion. Their head hasn't been feeling so good either; if they didn't know any better, they would have thought they had been shot.

But there is no brain fluid coming out of their nose, no blood left on the pillow after some sleep was taken, and they remembered the entirety of the past few weeks.

~~"Or maybe we don't."~~

Spider-man pipped up while Peter was making this observation, lifting his pillow up to eye-level. 

"What do you mean 'maybe we don't.' Of course we do; we've been recruited for the Avengers, school was shot up, Ned and MJ are gone and May's off at work. We're missing nothing."

Spider-man hummed, as if in thought. Then,out of nowhere.

~~"You know, we might be dead and laying in a ditch right now."~~

Peter startled at the thought, falling off the side of his bed. He landed on his back and groaned at the jolt it sent through his muscles.

 ~~"See? When was the last time we've taken more than two days to heal?"~~ Spider-man ignored Peter when he was told, quite vehemently, to "Shut the hell up, S." Peter lifted himself from the floor, the creaking of his joints racking up his arms as he sat up.

"You can't hallucinate if you're dead S; once the heart stops pumping blood through your body the brain stops all chemical production. Besides, I'm sure I'm just having some growing pains, is all."

 ~~"Oh yeah?"~~ Spider-man challenged, ~~"When was the last time we grew, Peter? You know malnutrition and sleep deprivation effects as well as I do; the likeliness of us having another growth-spurt _ever_ is so unlikely it's almost laughable. We're not having growth pains, we're not sore. What are we, Peter? We are tired and sore, we hurt. Do you know how long it's been since we've actually felt this sore? Months, Peter; months."~~

Spider-man's monologue was slightly jarring, and Peter felt the pool of sweat at the base of his neck grow. Before Peter could respond, the pager on his nightstand beeped, the noise deafening in the silent, stiff room. Peter picked it up and read the message, 

"Attk in centrl prk. Help now."

Peter pulled his mask on quickly, receding into the back corner of his mind as Spider-man filled his limbs with confidence, assurance that they'll make it out fine, and a confident "We'll finish this conversation later." 

 

 

By the time they reached central park, the entire twenty blocks around it was deserted; pavement was un-grounded, thrown into buildings and cars. Blood splattered the ground, and Spider-man noticed there was a giant patched of bloodied blonde hair attached to a clump of scalp laying on the road. He swallowed and ran through the entrance, the sound of metal clashing with metal loud in the empty area.

"Spider-man, finally; welcome to the party." Iron Man welcomed him near the entrance, some type of metallic creature latching itself to Iron Man's back as he spoke. Spider-man ripped it off quickly, and the screech it released was horrible.

"They sound like two old, rusty cars having violent hate-sex." Spider-man tossed out.

"Disturbing reference kid." 

Iron Man pulled something from its' forehead and the thing stilled. Dropping it, Spider-man tried to question what was happening before someone was thrown their way, coming from the center most part of the park.

"Ah wonderful. Falcon, Spider-man; Spider-man, Falcon. Great, introductions are over, now let's fix this all before someone dies."

**_"Pretty sure that's already unavoidable. "_ **

Peter's voice was hesitant and unsure of how this will pan out, but it later filled with false bravado as he watched Spider-man rush head-first into the fight, people he's never met before firing gamma rays and light beams right into the robots. Spider-man got lost into the flow of things; bodies working together, a common goal in mind. He grabbed one of the robot's leg in one hand, and in his other, it's arm. He placed his foot in it's stomach and began to pull; the metallic screeching cutting off abruptly as it's ripped apart. He threw the upper body at another one that tried to sneak up on him from behind. 

Since his attention was diverted to the one approaching from behind, he couldn't catch himself in time and another pounced on him from his left. Spider-man landed with a rough thud to the muddy grass and tried to keep the thing-  ** _"I think I've seen them in S.H.I.E.L.D's data-base; pretty sure these are the upgraded version of Doom Bots that Hydra sends out every now and then for field testing"_** \- the wanna-be Doom Bot from grabbing his head between it's-honestly disgustingly wide- mouth and crushing his head.

Someone must have seen the collision, because the next thing Spider-man knew, the weight atop of him was lifted and thrown somewhere to his side. When the blurriness of his semi-panic fell, he made non-sexual eye contact with his savior. He was a man with long brown hair and-

"Holy shit dude; you have a metal arm? That's crazy!" The man ignored him and grabbed the front of his shirt, hefting him up with little effort. 

"Can I now add into my resume that I've been saved by a Jesus-look-alike?" The man looked at him dryly. "Should I take that look as a No? Okay."

"What are you doing here, kid?" The man questioned, bringing the barrel of his gun- And spider-man tried to ignore the flash of cold he felt upon seeing it -  _We'll use you to keep the police off our back, and when we're out of the city I'll blow your head off and make it painless_ **-**  as the man shot one of the Doom Bot's skulls open. 

"I'm just here to cause a little chaos." Spider-man admitted, webbing one of the bots on the chest, grabbing the web tight and swinging the bot to the ground in one giant arch over his head. The collision of bot-to-ground made a semi crater, scattering pebbles and dirt everywhere. Another tried to fly at the man in-front of him, and Spider-man reacted without thought, leaping over the mans head and slamming his shoulder into the bot's stomach, bringing it the to ground. 

 "Who called you in?" 

"Iron Man did. What, am I crashing your little get-together?" Spider-man punched his fist through the robots head quickly, silencing it's senseless screeching. 

"Who are you?" A woman's voice sounded out from behind them, and Spider-man turned his head around, almost like an owl. His chin was in line with his shoulder blade, and the almost-disgusted look the blonde woman sent his way seemed to satisfy Spider-man enough to answer.

"I'm Spider-man. Tony called me in not too long ago. Said you guys needed my help. And you are?"

Spider-man watched as the mask hiding the upper part of her face receded into her costume, and he couldn't hold in Peter's gasp of amazement.

"Holy shit," Peter babbled, "You were the fighter-pilot that went missing back in 1980 something, right? Oh man I thought the reports from S.H.I.E.L.D were just speculations. Is it true you actually went to an alien planet? The reports say most of your information is classified, but when I read through them they seemed pretty basic; why's your stuff classified? Did you do something?"

Peter couldn't hold his excitement; he was so excited to finally meet Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel. Holy crap, Peter thought he was going to pass out. Spider-man had to reign him in, pull him out and control the situation before this all got out of control. Spider-man thanks who ever listens to him, because instead of concentrating on the embarrassing fact of Peter being a very,  _very_ big fan, she turns her attention to the 'classified files being hacked into' aspect of the one-sided conversation. 

Although one can't avoid the embarrassment of having blurted out that they've apparently had a giant crush on Captain Marvel -since he read her files- in-front of the Avengers and at least four other Superheroes that Spider-man didn't care to take notice of. 

"You've read my files?" Instead of being irritated or angry, she just sounded amused. And if that didn't get Peter to blush then Spider-man doesn't know what would. 

"Yeah; got bored of reading S.H.I.E.L.D's rouge wanted list and noticed there were a few on tight lock-down. Didn't take long to get into them." 

Spider-man had to push Peter back almost violently when Captain Marvel smiled at him. She turned to Tony quickly and started to go over what had happened. Spider-man decided that this was good enough and silently snuck away, almost going unnoticed. His skin prickled, every hair stood up on end as a bolt of alert ran down his spine and Spider-man ducked down, right as an arm came out from behind him to grab at his hoodie; must have fallen off at some point. 

Spider-man spun around to glare at Jesus-man. Now that his life wasn't in danger, Spider-man managed to notice the worn paint on the mans shoulder; a simple red star. 

_**"Oh my god you just ducked away from the Winter Soldier; dude you are SO on my shit list for today. I can't believe it first we meet THE Captain Marvel and I can't even get a picture with her, not you've completely sabotaged any chance of-"** _

****~~~~_~~"Shut up Peter."~~_ ~~~~Spider-man thought to him, glowering as the _Winter Soldier_ retracted his hand just as quickly as it had popped out, looking down on him with surprise.

"Ah, see; the kid doesn't like it when you try and sneak up on him." Tony opened his face plate and smiled anxiously towards the solider, "I think he has some sort of a sixth sense; can tell when someone's doing something shady, or anyone tries to touch him."

Spider-man made to try and leave again, but Steve had moved behind him and blocked his way. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes downcast slightly as he looked at Spider-man. Spider-man craned his neck to look him in the eyes, shoulders bunching up into his neck as he postured himself in defense. Steve made to say something, but cut himself off with a loud click of his jaw.

"As lovely as the conversation is," Spider-man started, "I have more important things to do; so as wonderful as today has been," Here he throws a side-ways glance to the bots littering the grass around them, " I need to leave."

He brushed past Steve, stalking off to the entrance to the park. He felt more than heard someone coming up behind him; their footsteps were light, and their stride long. He craned his head and looked behind himself to see Captain Marvel walking behind him.

"listen kid," she made to set a hand on his shoulder, but decided otherwise when he tensed, "I'm not going to patronize you; I saw what you managed to do back there. You're a lot stronger than you look, but that doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. Your stuck in this business just like the rest of us are; ask us for help every once in a  while." 

She was following him down the deserted streets now, and Spider-man felt slightly nervous now. She wasn't leaving.

"Oh, by the way. I'd like to see all those files you claim you've got." She smiled again and not even Spider-man could push down the flush of heat rising to his cheeks. 

 ** _"Loser."_** Peter whispered to him.

"I'll show you if you agree to tell me what happened on that alien planet you lived, before you came back here." Spider-man countered.

"What make's you think something happened?"

"Why else would someone leave a high-tech alien planet for something as meager as Earth?" Silence followed for a moment before she laughed; throwing her head back and placing a hand on her stomach.

"You've got me there kid. Alright then; until next time?" And with that, she pulled her helmet back onto her scalp and shot off into the sky. Spider-man watched her swirl, and then take speed off through the sky-line. He laughed a little and webbed himself up a building, preferring to hop roof-top to roof-top for a while to burn off some steam. 

He made it maybe three buildings away from the park when someone called out to him; Falcon, the dark-skinned man Tony introduced him too was soaring in the air above him; he made to land in-front of Spider-man, bending his knees and allowing the wings protruding from his back to recede. 

"So you're the new kid, huh? Steve's told me a lot about you." 

Spider-man felt his blood boil. They're telling people about him? Do they know his name? Where he lives? Where  _Aunt May_ lives?

"Now don't get your panties in a twist," Falcon seemed to have noticed Spider-man's agitation towards his previous words, "I don't know nothin' official. Your real identity is confidential and only shared if absolutely necessary. Anyway; I just wanted to congratulate you. It's not every day someone joins the team."

He held a hand out to shake, and Spider-man cautiously grasped it in his own. Falcon shook his hand and smiled, mentioning "You're pretty small, man. Ever wanna drop by the tower and join us in a cook-out? I've gotta admit, that metal-armed bastard can make a mean salsa."

Spider-man jerked his hand out of the grip, shaking his head. 

"I don't do that, uh; team-bonding stuff. I'm a bit too busy, anyway." And yeah, he felt a little bad for leaving the guy there, but what else was he going to do? It's not like you can explain to someone the amount of trust you hold in them is probably about as much trust as someone would hold in a wild snake to not bite them. 

"We need to tell them." Peter offered, and Spider-man shook his head.

"No, no. They won't understand us. We'll just turn into another experiment to them."

"You don't  _know_ that." 

As Peter continued the argument, he felt a slight chill run through him. Not paying it any mind, he made to stand up from his reclined position on the bed. He felt his head swim, and a brief moment of panic flashed through him. Before Spider-man could stop him, he grabbed the pager, but had only managed to type in a 'hel-' before he collapsed to the ground, head knocking into the side of his desk as everything around him went dark; the last thing he heard was spider-man's panicked 

 ~~~~ ~~"Peter!"~~ Echoing through his head before the dark corners of his eyes took over.

Black.


	4. Batman's Better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I liked the idea of Jarvis and Friday both existing; that Tony had made her as a sort of little sister type. Also, I totally forgot to show you guys what Peter in this story looks like, because it definitely isn't the outfit he made himself in civil-war, nor is it the suit Tony made him. So if you want to check the work out, it's right here~
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/131167407871929347/

"Tony, what are you doing?" 

Steve's exasperated voice made it seem like Tony was doing something wrong; but the fact that the man was now right behind him? Now that gave way to the thought that Steve knew  _exactly_ what Tony was doing. Steve's next words confirmed that theory.

"You know the kid's not going to wear that, right? I'm pretty sure he'd rather be swallowed whole by a giant snake that accept anything from us." 

The suit looked amazing, really; red, blue, and black made a large mesh pattern across the chest, lines exaggerated to look like a spiders web across his back and front. The sides were entirely blue with a small black spider sitting on the chest. No logical reason why anyone would ever reject such an offer; especially when it was from someone like Tony Stark. Alas, this kid is something else entirely, and no one in the Avengers, or even within contact of their programs knew how to deal with him.

"It's technically not a suit," Tony started, pressing the large black spider in the middle of the chest, and Steve watched as the fabric suddenly broke apart into things almost as small as a dust mite to retract themselves to the center. Within second, it compacted itself into a little backpack handing onto the mannequin innocently.

"It's nano-tech. I've been working on it for a while, decided I'm sick of taking two minutes to let the suit unlatch. And it's quicker to suit up as-well. If a large part of the nano-tech becomes damaged, the other bots can spread out and protect the exposed skin until repairs can be made. Honestly, _dear;_ I thought you'd appreciate it."

Tony had placed a hand in Steve's shoulder, ignoring the man's exasperated sigh.

"I do apologize for Mr. Stark's actions today, Captain." Jarvis' voice sounded out over the speakers. "Mr. Stark has consumed nearly seven grams of caffeine through powders, energy drinks, coffee, and caffeine pills within the past thirty-one hours. I have suggested a moments rest multiple times, but every proposition has either been ignored or dismissed entirely."

With that, Tony brought his hand up to the straps of the now-backpack, once-super-suit and pulled it off the mannequin and holding it out to Steve proudly.

Moments like these always pleased Tony; after months of fighting, screaming, nights of being black-out drunk from grief, it's all come down to this.

Arrangements were made for multiple people, of course. Newer avengers have been brought to the tower, Bucky is going through therapy, as-per the agreement. Tony and Bucky have even sat down, shared and enjoyed a few talks about life in general. About how, no matter what, Bucky can still feel the snap of a neck in his hands whenever he even looks at Tony, and Tony still feels moments of blind anger when he looks to the photo's of his mother, or notices the blue-prints his father never got to finish hanging up behind the bar.

Luckily, Bucky has yet to have another episode; the last thing they needed to do was lock him up in the cells with Thors' brother. The nasty fuck would probably  _love_ to get into his mind, to toy with it however he saw fit. The guy needed help, and an incident between those two would most likely have destroyed whatever progress they've all made. 

Tony himself had volunteered to build a cell strong enough to hold the god, and so far it was doing it's job. Much better than the one in S.H.I.E.L.D had done. The bottom of Stark Tower was kept at a wonderfully welcoming temperature of negative thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit. Thor was visiting him almost every day; and every day he comes back out with just a little less hope in his bright blue eyes. They were moments of worry and sadness; of distrust.

But these moments dwindle the longer they work together. Steve couldn't be happier, and Tony is working even harder to keep his friends content.

"Your probably right on that, though." Tony started, "The kid doesn't seem to like us much on the surface. But here's one little thing I just discovered- this, ah, teeny, tiny, little gimmick I found quite a bit ago."

Tony pulled something up on a hologram and Steve hummed in blase humor as the screen flickered to life, showcasing multiple files and documents. "Oh, just stumbled upon this, then?"

Tony snorted, "Oh yeah, complete accident, swear."

Steve stopped feeling the amusement curl in his gut when he looked at the screen; it wasn't Tony's, considering the background for the screen was a picture of Peter and a slightly older woman, with the Stark Tower in the background.

"You hacked into Peters computer?"

"I hacked into nothing," Tony commented, "I just followed a trail. Peter thinks he's slick enough to imitate a crashed code, but he didn't stop to think I'd take the time to look into it. It lead me to the connection he kept with the Stark security. Next thing I know, the kids files are popping up everywhere I look."

Tony shrugged his shoulders, "oops."

 Tony continued to type away, opening files that had words like  ** _"Classified."_** And  ** _"Confidential."_** Pasted on the top of documents in bold lettering. Files on Steve, Bucky, Tony, Thor; pretty much everyone and anyone who was enough of a threat to compile a file. 

"Where'd you reckon he's getting all of these?"

At Tony's shrug, Steve stalled before commenting, "You think he was serious, about hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"Well, these didn't come from some Wikipedia page; I didn't even know they had a file on little mister Ant, but those are here too. Kid's got an entire database on everyone; hero and villain. "

 Here he pulled up files on others; names like Doctor Doom, Magneto, Red Skull, and so many names passed by the screen in a flurry it almost made Steve nauseous.

"Kid's got some talent, that's for sure. I just don't understand one thing, though."

Steve's "And what's that?" Is barely past his lips before Tony begins talking. 

"So the kid has some glaringly obvious trust issue, that much even I can see. He's terrified of us getting close; both physically and emotionally. He obviously loves what he does, and it's evident every time some kid leaves him snacks on the roof, or a police officer," Tony gestures to another monitor, where Peter and an officer stood in the  middle of the screen, "Gets him a cup of coffee for the road. He's not shy, 'cause every report a villain or victim gives they recite how he just 'continues to blab on.' "

Tony read the last part from a report he pulled out from the stack of files on his desk.

"Is that all you've been doing recently?" Steve accused, "Hacking into the kids personal life? Jesus Tony, no wonder he doesn't trust us; he probably thought this exact thing would happen."

Tony rolled his eyes and brushed past Steve, picking another folder form his coffee table and reading through the reports he grabbed.

"The kid hasn't been to the hospital in two years, the dentist in three, refuses any help and/or support from friends and family. Lives alone with an Aunt who can barely find enough time to sleep and eat, let alone take care of a fifteen year-old. Now, normally I would wait for the other person to reveal this- I wouldn't actually wait to find out, necessarily, my self control isn't that amazing, but I'd keep most of it to myself- and I would have done the same for the kid. But then I found this little tidbit."

Tony threw a folder onto the counter in-front of Steve, allowing the man to slowly pick it up and scan through it.

 "What am I supposed to make of this?" Steve questioned; all the file held was the coroners report of some man. Looked like he just ended up drowning in his own puke after one too many drinks. 

"So I'm looking through what all the kid's got on a bunch of people, right? Seen this in it's own little huddle of code. Took almost an hour to break through. And I'm thinking to myself, 'why go through this much trouble for some random guy?' I thought that maybe it was a relative, or someone he was close to. Once I take a more detailed look through Peters life story, out those theories went, through the window. The only people he's considered close is his Aunt, and his two friends; his uncle died in a convenient store robbery about seven months back. When I looked a bit closer, the entire picture came together. Go on, have a little look-see."

Tony placed another file in-front of Steve. This time, a row of three men's mug shots; the men who had robbed the store. 

"So what, you're saying Peter had something to do with it?"

Tony shook his head and brought the mug-shot up onto a screen.

"Two of the three men have been declared dead. One," Tony flicked a picture up, along with a coroners report. "Was said to have drowned in his own vomit in his apartment, due to over-intoxication. The funny thing, I found, is that while the guy was covered in booze, not one lick was actually  _in_ him." 

Steve looked up, brows furrowed as he contemplated the implications of Tony's statement.

"So; he was poisoned? Drugged? What, someone murdered him and made it look like an accident?"

Tony nodded and pulled another man's photo and report up.

"This time, he was found hanging up in his room. Rope around neck, note, booze; all pretty basic for the scene. Again, mistake in the report. The guys' feet? Were actually  _on_ the ground when they cut him down. Meaning, his feet were making solid contact with his carpet. And I'm thinking, 'well then how'd he hang himself?' Then I pulled up some photos from the crime scene."

The screen diverted itself into three photos, all in a dark room with a messy bed, papers strewn all over the place, and a body in the middle of the picture. The man was disgusting, with vomit on his shirt and piss down his pants. But when Tony enlarged a part of one of the photos, Steve had to pause for a moment.

"Those aren't rope burns." 

Tony shook his head, "No they aren't; to me? Those look a hell of a lot like hand prints. Someone choked the guy to death and made it look like an accident. Obviously they knew they'd get away with it, right? I mean, ninety-percent of the forensic team at the time were newbies, and the other ten percent is full of compromised morons who wouldn't give a dam what the scene looked like as long as they had to do the minimum amount of paper-work. They knew what happened, but I guess they just covered it up to avoid extra work." 

Steve stared at the folder for a moment, then to the back-pack sitting innocently on the couch. 

"You think Peter's the one who killed them." Not a question.

"Either that, or he hired a really shitty hit-man to do it for him; given his financial status, not likely." 

 

 

 

 

 

 Peter woke from a deep sleep with a gasp that felt like he was breathing fire. His head swam and his vision blurred; bile sat at the back of his throat, and he ended up dry-heaving into his own lap for several moments. His throat burned horribly and it took him several moments to catch his breath. His ears were ringing and blood rushed to his head so fast it made his vision white out for a second. Placing a hand on the nightstand next to him, he heaved himself up to his feet, ignoring the screaming of his head and the painful stretch of his now stiff back.

He stumbled out of his room, almost tripping on the recklessly discarded shoes near his door and made an attempt at walking down the hall and towards the bathroom.

The luminescent lighting cast deathly shadows under his eyes and cheekbones, making his skin look deathly pale, almost yellow and sickly. He tried to smile at himself, but grimaced at the chipped and cracked teeth that glared back at him. His hair was matted to the side of his skull, and there was still a blotching of bruises trailing along the left side of his temple and down to his jaw. His left eye was bloodshot, and he had probably broken a blood vessel in it from the force of the hit. Some guy last night had decided it was a great idea to hit him in the face with a bat; shockingly enough,it is not, in fact, the best experience someone could have.

He did still have a gaggle of cats following him around at night, so there is a positive to the whole experience. While Spider-man was lounging on the top of a building, some little gangly black cat had decided that his chest was the best place to take a seat. After a staring contest that lasted a full fifteen seconds, Spider-man let his hand slowly drift up to scratch behind one of it's ears, an action that had apparently been a good choice; if the resulting low purr was anything to go by. Spider-man wanted to name him Mercy Jr, but Peter had vetoed that almost immediately; the cat was almost shamelessly proud and had a white along the bottom of his chin and light grey around his fore-head and cheeks. Peter had decided to call him Sokka.

Sokka had apparently followed him home, because he was sitting on Peters window sill next to Mercy when he made it back to him room to gather some clothes for a quick shower. Peter smiled and pushed the window open, allowing the not-so-much-strays-but-not -really-pets-either inside before he closed his door behind him.

The water was hot for only a few minutes while Peter bathed, scrubbing sticky sweat and blotches of blood from his skin as fast as he could manage. The water turned a light pink for a second, before clearing quickly. The fight from last night had been especially brutal; Peter was covered almost head-to-toe in bruises and lacerations. Drug dealers apparently held no guilt over beating someone with whatever they had on hand, and an abandoned warehouse was the perfect place to find shit like giant chunks of broken glass, or old rusty chains. The wheezing of his chest was painful sounding, even to his own ears. He brought a hand up to his sides and lightly pressed, cringing at the feeling of his own ribs shifting beneath his fingers.

He had had to reset a few broken bones before he fell asleep (or fell unconscious; there really was no difference, anymore) and the feeling of his arm shifting as he re-broke it and held the bones together in his own hands still fresh in his mind. The guys last night were especially brutal in their fight, and Peter felt a sick sense of satisfaction upon hearing the cracks of their bones breaking under his fist in retaliation. Peter stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and began to brush his teeth; he had just gotten to his molars when a sharp pain hit his jaw. Flinching, Peter drew the toothbrush out and looked down at the now pink foam coloring the bristles. He reached into his mouth and began feeling around, when his finger brushed against his last molar and it shifted under the light touch. 

Peter flinched again when that drew another bout of sharp pain in his jaw. He grasped the tooth in-between his pointer and middle fingers and twisted. The tooth felt like molten lava for but a moment before it all stopped, leaving nothing but a dull throbbing in its socket. He brought the tooth out from his mouth and looked down on the black roots. Parts of the tooth were chipped away, and when he turned it up-side down and looked into the core, the center of it was black and rotten.

Confused, Peter pulled his cheeks open and glared into his mouth, looking for any other teeth that were compromised; because while his teeth were chipped, cracked,  and slightly jagged (MJ has started to compare it with a sharks mouth with all the sharp points they had) they were never _gross_. Hell, Peter's never even had a cavity, let alone a completely rotten tooth. 

Not finding anything pout of place, Peter looked back down on the tooth. Maybe it was just a one time thing? Normally his healing factor would have killed any bacteria before it had time to grow into a full on infection. Maybe this had been stewing here before his bite? 

Theories flew through Peter's mind before he had time to stop them. 

 ~~"Calm down."~~ Spider-man soothed, a chill shooting through Peter's burning limbs, almost like a balm you smother a fresh blister in. 

"okay," Peter declared, dragging the suit out from the cubby-hole and pulling it on half-frantically, "We need help. This has gone too far and I'm honestly done with passing out every-other day, and feeling like I'm dying, and then we've got the nose-bleeds and the panic attacks and now were falling unconscious, like last week we fell and hit our head and- "

~~"No, Peter; what if they find something they don't like? What if they want to test us out? What if we just become some lab rat? I mean, who's to say we aren't one already? This entire thing could have been the result of them! This is probably their fault, so we should really just not do this."~~

Peter paused in his panicked dressing; he had never really heard S that scarred. Never terrified enough to start throwing blame this way and that, like he was worried.

"No, what we're going to do is politely ask for help, like a civilized person and stop being so rude to the people who have been trying to, timidly, assist us since they got here."

Peter refused to let Spider-man through, slinking his way through the window and out onto the now darkening streets. Aunt May was, thankfully, out for some book club and had texted Peter earlier this evening that she would be staying over. His web-shooters were always a welcoming tightness around his wrist as he swung through the city.

It was almost odd, being allowed into the tower without having to either sneak in or hack his way through security. Almost too easy; the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in agreement. Peter crawled through the opening in the window, deciding to climb up and slither his way to the ceiling as fast as possible. The lights were dim, which in itself was a bit of a warning; Tony had been adamant every visit Peter made to keep the lights on as bright as is comfortable for him, because  _you cant exactly spot the bad guys in pitch black, can you?_

Peter flinched and hunkered down (or up?) to the ceiling, chest pressing against the smooth surface and knees up under his armpit; turning his head, he watched as Tony and Steve walked through the door to Peters right, steps light but purposeful as Steve called out a reluctant "Peter?"

Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing silently in-front of the men with nothing but the slight 'whoosh' of his fabric catching wind at the landing. The drops had never really bothered Peter; not until now, apparently. Because when he hit the floor, feet soft upon impact, the blood pooled into his head and began pouring from his nose. The back of his neck tingled violently, but the feeling was drowned out by the sudden burst of excruciating pain in the back of his skull.

Peter fell from his graceful crouch with a hand plastered to the back of his head, the sudden fear of  _'oh my god I just got shot again'._

Because that's exactly what this feels like; it was just like the robbery, and the screams _there was so much blood and he could see parts of his own skull help please someone I need help it hurtssomuchohmygodMay_

He didn't feel the contact with the ground, but there must have been some type of exchange between his body and the floor because the next thing he knew he was being forceably pushed down onto his back and someone was screaming and could they really not do that please? Peter was about to pass out and the last thing he needed to worry about is why people are screaming.

"-Od that is so much blood. Bruce? Bruce get your ass in here! Bruce?  _Bruce!"_ Peter swallowed a groan and tried to sit up, but the hands at his shoulders tried to push him down, and those hands were too hot, too warm. There was the sound of footsteps and suddenly a needle was being forced through his skin and into his blood and Peter just wanted  _out-_

~~"Peter? Peter I'm here. If you want to go, we can go. I know you think we need help, but we really don't. They're drugging you up right now, and if we don't find a way out of here in the next thirty seconds we'll be at their mercy."~~

Peter shook his head to clear the steadily growing fog taking place of the horrible pain, and he felt a guilty sort of relief when he could feel nothing but a soft fuzzy feeling all over. It wasn't long until his body finally gave out and left him in blissful darkness.

 

 

 

"Bring him to the table, Steve."

Bruce ordered, pointing over to the now cleared metal table in one corner of the lab.

"Now look, everyone; I'm not exactly a medical doctor, so if I decide we need an actual professional in here you _will_ listen to me, understood?"

Bruce didn't wait for a response before he pulled the medical cart out from the closet. There were so many things on it; gauze, morphine, needles for both stitching and injecting, scalpels, clamps, and there was even a low-radiation dose X-ray situated on the very top shelf. Bruce settled the cart down next to Peter and began removing his goggles first, followed by cutting the hood and the mask off of him. Bruce flinched at the blood soaked fabrics and tossed them into a medical bin for later removal.

Peter's face was pale and gaunt, almost ghostly. It was the look of a young boy who had been through too much. Bruce peeled one of Peters' eye-lid open and tried to flash a light to check his dilation, but his eyes were rolled into the back of his skull, only the white of his eye showing. Grunting, Bruce unzipped his hoodie and lifted the black long-sleeve up to tuck it under Peters chin.

There were dark blue and purple bruises spanning from his collar bone and down into the waist-band of his pants; Bruce placed his hands on Peter's sides lightly and grimaced at the shifting of bones under his hands. Bruce decided to just completely cut the ling sleeve off, tossing it with the rest of the soiled fabric before bringing a stethoscope to Peter's chest, listening to his wheezing breathes. 

Once Bruce decided that there was no chance of a punctured lung, he pulled back and brought a needle and thread to the lacerations across his chest that seemed like they needed immediate attention, blood pooling on his chest and slowly sliding down his sides. The process felt like it took hours, watching as Peter's skin pulled taut with every stitch.

He wiped the blood from his skin and wrapped his chest lightly to keep the stitches from getting infected. "Steve," Bruce addressed, "Can you pull the X-ray over here, please? I need to make sure nothing else is broken."

While Tony helped Steve set the X-ray up, Bruce proceeded to remove Peters shoes, un-lacing the boots and peeling them off carefully, followed by his pants until he was left in his black boxers; the bruises did indeed follow the line down his body. His legs were more bruising and broken blood vessels than they were pale skin, and the tops of his feet seemed to have taken a good amount of beatings, because the arch of his right root seemed inverted.

The machine whirred to life and Bruce held the wand over Peters legs, eyes locked onto the monitor as the image blurred for a moment, before it cleared. Bruce almost gawked at the many hair-line fractures lining both his tibia and fibula; not only were there existing fractures, but the lines and un-even dips in the bones prove that it had been broken many,many times before and had not set exactly right. He moved the scanner from his left leg and over to his right, and noticed that not only were there the same fractures and divots, but there was in-fact a horrible break in the arch of Peters foot.

"I'm going to need to set this break." Bruce stated to no one, grabbing a large metal rod that simulated the arch of someones foot. Bruce dug both thumbs into his arch and pushed the bones back into place, the sound similar to popcorn. He kept a hand in place and quickly wrapped the foot around the metal band, until it was completely wrapped.

The rest of the Avengers stood in the room awkwardly, wanting to help but being un-able to do anything as the doctor worked. 

Once the foot was wrapped, he brought the X-ray back over Peters body, bringing it up from his legs and trailing over his chest, watching as the bones slowly shifted back into place, one little wheezing breath at a time.

Finally, he was scanning Peters skull for any fractures, but stilled as the monitor cleared.

His skull was completely covered in spider web fractures, all spanning from the parietal bone and weaving their way to the temporal bone and towards the frontal bone. The X-ray also picked up a small, unidentifiable object in his frontal lobe, almost pressing up against his frontal bone. 

"Oh my god," Natasha's voice startled Bruce, and he watched as she walked up closer to the screen for a better look.

"That's a bullet."

Tony jerked back at this. 

"How long do you think it's been in there? I don't remember seeing anything of Spider-man being shot recently."

Natasha shook her head and pointed to the area surrounding the bullet. "Well need to inject him with a dye, and see if there is anything wrong with the brain-matter surrounding it."

Before Bruce could move to a syringe, Peter groaned and swatted at the large light that hung over him.

 

 

Peter's head felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed with cotton and glue. There was something burning itself into his eyes, and he flinched, trying to swat at it with a hand that felt like lead. 

"Wha?" his mouth was dry and papery, and his breath tasted awful on his tongue. He pushed himself into an upwards position and forced his dry eyes open, looking around at the room.

"Who-er, what? Where...'m I?" He swung his legs over the side of the table before anyone could move to stop him, placing his feet on the floor and attempting to stand up. 

 ~~"We need to leave. Now."~~ Spider-man sounded down right terrified, and that in-of-itself set the alarms blaring inside his head. He tried to stand again, but a sudden lurch to the side had him almost crashing to the ground; the only reason he didn't crash to the ground in a heap of useless limbs was thanks to the arms that wrapped themselves around his shoulders gently.

"Hey kid." Peter looked up, though not without some struggle, to see Clint looking down at him with a frown. 

"How's about you go sit down and we explain a few things to you?"

Peter let them settle him back on the table dumbly, all the while Spider-man was practically screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Peter, we have a few questions for you, okay? Can you answer us?"

Peter nodded, his senses ever so slowly returning to him. He could hear the cars down below, and the coffee machine in the other room. His own heartbeat was slow and calm; probably due to the drugs in his system. He would need to ask about that at a later time.

Peter watched as tony pulled a hologram image up; it was a mugshot of two men, eyes blood-shot and faces grim. Tony glanced at Peter, who scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

"Do you know who these two men are?" Tony questioned, eyes hard and mouth a thin line.

"Uh, no?" 

"Fri?"

"Mr. Parker is telling the truth." Steve sighed and ran a hand down his face in relief; or maybe it was exhaustion? The good Captain looked like he hasn't slept a wink in the past three days. Before Peter could comment on this particular observation, Spider-man tried to pull him out as violently as possible. It made Peter jerk back physically, a cry escaping him at the sudden force of it. 

"Mr. Parker's reading indicate a sudden explosion in brain-wave activity. It is possible that mind-control is a play." Friday's voice sounded like it was cutting itself into Peter's eardrums, and he pressed his palms against his head as hard as he could. Spider-man pulled again, stronger this time.

~~"Peter! Peter let me out, I need to get out we need to leave Aunt May won't be happy Peter we need to go"~~

Spider-mans rambling sounded like something a crack addict would say to convince someone that they weren't on crack; Peters concerns were elsewhere at the moment, though. That thought would have to be left for another day. Spider-man gave one more valiant tug, and Peter's own consciousness slipped away to the back corners of his own mind. He watched Spider-man try and force himself onto his legs, tried to push his way put of the room. Spider-man was screaming about things Peter didn't understand; about bullets and how he was _here to protect_ and that  _they deserved everything I did and more._

 

The last thing either of them heard, before being brought back into the dark that had started to tinge their vision, was Fridays readings of "I think he's the tumor, Boss."


End file.
